


The J/B Alphabet

by TeamGwenee



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Drabbles, F/M, Fluff, Humour, Maybe a little angst, Shmoop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-15
Updated: 2017-05-10
Packaged: 2018-10-19 10:25:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 26
Words: 15,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10637940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TeamGwenee/pseuds/TeamGwenee
Summary: A series of drabbles about Jaime and Brienne, going from A to Z.





	1. Army

Brienne had to turn and hide her face in her horse’s chestnut coat, pretending to give it a gentle stroke before mounting. The slight grin that had been tugging at the edge of her lips had grown bigger and it would not have done for the Northerners to have seen. King Jon and his people may have grudgingly agreed to the meeting, but for them, the situation was no cause for smiles.

King Jon’s face was even more sullen than usual, and the anger radiating from Lady Sansa could not quite conceal the fear in her eyes. Beside them, Ser Davos’s face was white and taught. Of course, his own sons had died in battle against the Lannisters. Indeed, there was not a single man behind him that had not seen a son, brother, father or friend fall at the hands of a lion. And the wolves had cut them down in turn.

Now King Jon was asking them to make friends, to forget the past as though it had never happened and let the snows of winter settle over the blood spilled fields and corpses of their slaughtered comrades. No wonder a cold, burning silence fell over the men as the Lannister’s crimson banner was seen fluttering alongside a white flag of peace. Jaws clenched and hands twitched towards swords as _he_ rode forward.

It was at this point Brienne gave up all attempts of concealment. She allowed herself to smile. A smile that only grew when his eyes reached hers, having swept furtively over the hostile army of Northerners, before they caught sight of her and softened. All thoughts of armies and kings forgotten, as his face relaxed and her smiles were returned.


	2. Bruises

“Seven Hells Jaime! What happened to you?”

“Why do you think something happened?”

“Well, you have two black eyes and both your nose and your lips are bleeding,”

“And that makes you think something happened? Oh Brienne, for one so young to have grown so jaded and suspicious,”

“ _Jaime_ , why won’t you tell me what happened? Or let me guess, you mouthed of again and got some nice bruises for your bother,”

“Since when have I ever mouthed off?”

“…”

“-Point taken. Still, I swear before the seven that what happened was not my fault,”

“Well whose fault is it then?”

“That hairy Wildling Fucker, Torment,”

“You mean Tormund?”

“I stand by what I said,”

“And how is this his fault exactly?”

“He looked at you, and talked of you in a manner that dishonoured you greatly. So, naturally, I stepped in to preserve your honour,”

“…What?”

“I protected your honour, Lady Brienne. Now, having fulfilled my role as gallant Knight, I think it is your duty to tend to my wounds. Would be so good as to kiss them better?”

“I… what?”

“I wish for my Lady to kiss my wounds better. There are five on my face, you can start with them. Then we will move onto the rest. That Wildling, he really hits below the belt,”


	3. Cold

Jaime lay a cool hand against Brienne’s hot, damp forehead. His frowned, and tucked a matted stray hair back.  
“You’ve got a fever,”  
Brienne brushed his hand away. “It’s nothing serious,” She tried to say, only to end up sneezing. Jaime wiped his hand against his shirt in disgust and pushed Brienne down onto the sofa, holding her there when she tried to stand back up. It did not require much force to do so. The usually sturdy Brienne; who could run a marathon in record time, could barely stand.  
He kept his hand on her shoulder and frowned down at her sternly. Once he was sure that she would not move, he walked towards her bedroom and gathered up her duvet.  
“There’s no way in Seven Hells you’re going into work today. I’m sure Cat will understand. You’re no use to anyone at the office, and quite frankly, you look like shit. You’re all sweaty and snotty. They’ll be glad to be without you,”  
Brienne glared up at Jaime. “Your bedside manner is crap, you know that right,”  
Jaime just ignored her, and firmly tucked the edges of the duvet around her. He switched on the TV and flickered through the channel until he found an omnibus of ‘K.N.I.G.H.T.S’ to prevent her having to do so, before moving onto the kitchen.  
“I’m making you chicken soup!” he called.  
Brienne smiled slightly into her hanky, but called back “Chicken soup? Why are you making chicken soup?”  
“Because you’ve got a cold. And when people have colds, they eat chicken soup,” Jaime answered, returning back to the living room. He looked down at the raw chicken breast in his hand. “Now, uh, how do you make chicken soup?”  
Brienne rolled her eyes and smiled gently. “We have some microwave chicken curries in the fridge. I’m sure they will count,”  
Full up with chicken, rice and naan bread, Brienne felt her eyes grow heavy. Jaime had joined her on the sofa before the TV and, as she drifted off, she could have sword she felt gentle fingers running soothingly through her hair.


	4. Dog

“Stupid mutt,” Jaime growled, brushing the snow off his cape.  
“Direwolf,” Brienne corrected, running her hand thought its snow-white fur. Ghost, or the demon dog as Jaime liked to call it, butted his head against Brienne’s thigh. Besides Brienne’s large frame, the mutt almost looked like a normal wolf. But Jaime knew better. That wretched creature was out to get him. As he and Brienne patrolled the edges of the God’s wood, that Direwolf had burst from the trees and knocked into Jaime deliberately, knocking Jaime face first into the snow.   
Jaime glared and snarled at the beast, causing Ghost the bare his teeth in response. Brienne rolled her eyes as Jaime backed away.  
“Don’t antagonise Ghost Jaime, he’s a Direwolf. Nothing good could come if it,”  
“That creature hates me,” Jaime muttered, sulking into his cape.  
Brienne shrugged. “Probably,”  
“Excuse me?”  
“He’s a Stark creature. It only makes sense that he would care little for a Lannister. There hasn’t exactly been warm blood between you two, has there?”  
“There’s been plenty of blood between us two,” Jaime murmured, “That’s the problem,” He glared as Brienne gave the hound from hell another stroke. “You on the other hand, you and the Starks are as thick as thieves,"  
"How do you mean?"  
"Well look at you, you’re even dressing like one!”  
Brienne looked down at her heavy woollen cape with its fur collar. “What is wrong with what I’m wearing. It’s only practical,”  
“Perhaps,” Jaime conceded grudgingly, “All I’m saying is, Starks and Direwolves are all well and good. But they have nothing on lions!”


	5. Evermore

Jaime gazed out at the lake long after she had sailed away into the night. A heavy mist had hung over the lake, and he stared in silence as he watched her disappear. The sun began to break against the sky, painting it with streaks of pink and gold and orange.  
Seeing her again was a blessing and a curse. Who would have thought she would grow to mean so much to him? The big, ugly Brienne of Tarth. Stubborn, sullen, graceless and large. She was everything a woman shouldn’t be. Everything Cersei wasn’t. By rights, she should disgust him. He should barely think of her, except for with disdain.  
He thought that he had forgotten about her. He wanted to. Long after she rode away for the first time, every little thing he did seemed to make him think of her. He’d find himself forgetting she was gone, and start thinking of the things he would say when next he saw her. Then there were those moments where her absence so conspicuous it was tangible. Where all he could think about was where she was, what she was doing. If she was well, or hurt, or alone. If she was alive. He’d lie awake at night, unable to shake the image of Brienne lying dead in a ditch somewhere, with him never to know what had become of her.   
Seeing her again shouldn’t bring him such relief.  
It was Cersei he loved. Cersei. It was the thought of her that he retreated to whenever he found the need to go away inside. The thought of her golden hair. Silken skin. Emerald green eyes (that widened with disgust when she saw his stump, when sapphire blue eyes had shined with empathy.) Everything he did, he did for Cersei. He ended this siege for Cersei, (peacefully, and with no blood spilt, except for that of a stubborn old man.)  
Seven Hells. No matter how hard he tried, he could never forget Brienne. Forget who he was when she was with her. She was a part of him now, for better or worse.


	6. Family

Jaime elbowed Brienne discretely in the ribs. She was plucking at her tights again in a most unladylike way. This time, she had rucked up skirt to pull at where the scratchy material stuck to the inside of her thighs. He glared at her.  
“Stop that,”  
She glared back, the stubborn wench. “I can’t help it,”  
Jaime rolled his eyes. “I’m sure you don’t need to tug at those tights every five seconds,”  
Brienne crossed her arms and slumped down into her seat. “You’d know how it feels if you had to wear these torture contraptions!”,  
“What makes you think I haven’t?”  
Brienne’s eyes widened, before she huffed and turned her head to face the window. Jaime noticed that her knee was bouncing up and down and lay a reassuring hand upon it, giving her a quick squeeze. She was nervous. Not that he could blame her. Quite frankly, he couldn’t wait for this wretched evening to be over either.  
“How long until we get there Bronn,” Jaime called to the driver his father had sent.  
“Jus’ pulling up now,” Bronn replied.  
Jaime watched as Brienne’s eyes widened in horror as the came to a stop and she finally came face to face to Casterly Rock, aka, the Fortress of doom, aka, home.   
~  
“Well, all in all, that could have gone worse,” Tyrion said, taking a rueful sip of his wine, having joined Jaime and Brienne back home for a night cap. Brienne had went straight to bed. She could lift weights and bench press to a point that would make lesser beings collapse in a lifeless heap.   
One evening spent with Tywin Lannister and Cersei Baratheon had worn her out.  
Jaime ignored Tyrion, staring anxiously at Brienne’s door. Tyrion continued.  
“The usual third degree. Childhood, medical history, education. Did you tell him Brienne went to KLU?”  
“No,” Jaime muttered darkly, “Nor did I tell him about her father’s military record and her mother’s fertility problems. And even I didn’t know that she had a nanny who was imprisoned for child abuse,” he glugged down her glass, “I need to speak to her about that. Make sure that she is ok. Having that brought up was the last thing she needed to hear. Especially as he had to announce in front of Cersei, the dick,” his fist clenched around the stem of his glass, “And I suppose it would have been too much to ask Cersei to be civil about it,”  
“Family,” Tyrion sighed, “Can’t live with them. Can’t afford an assassin to kill them off without their financial support,”


	7. Ghoul

Septa Roelle had a mouth like a cat’s arse. Wrinkled, tight and full of shit. In hindsight, Brienne could recognise that Septa Roelle had once been an attractive woman, with fine hair and dark eyes, but her mouth had always been pinched with disapproval. Or maybe she only looked that way when Brienne was in her presence.   
Brienne watched in silence as the decrepit old woman rose from her chair and gave Brienne the briefest of curtseys. All semblance of obsequiousness vanished when resumed her seat.   
“You’re back, then are you?” she sneered, those cold black eyes settling on the remains of Brienne’s cheek, “And somehow you are even uglier than ever,”  
Brienne nodded slowly, “I have returned,”  
The Septa narrowed her eyes and turned her head towards the window, watching Brienne’s reflection in the glass. “Do you realise how much you have hurt Lord Selwyn? The shame you have brought him, gallivanting across the country and bringing dishonour to your name and your house. Now you only to return when your poor father is on his death bed,”  
Brienne remained silent, which Septa Roelle took as signal to continue.  
“Because of you, your House is destined for ruin. No man will ever marry you, now that your reputation is in shreds. You have somehow become even less desirable, and it is not as though you had any appeal to men to begin with. You will be lucky if you can find a husband desperate enough to shut his eyes and do his duty, unpleasant as it will be for the both of you,”  
“And you would know all about that, wouldn’t you Septa?”  
Septa Roelle’s head whipped round, her eyes flaring. She opened her mouth to speak, but Brienne cut her off with the raise of a hand.  
“You presume to tell me that I will never know the love of a husband, and that the marriage bed will be one of suffering for me. And yet you have not experienced either. So what right do you have to educate me on the subject?”  
The Septa’s withered body shook as she stood, her trembling so great that her bones seemed at risk of tearing out of her body. She raised a gnarled, pointed finger.  
“Do you know what they call you? What the servants and guards and the farmers and merchants have all been saying about you, each and every one? They call you the Kingslayer’s whore!”  
All throughout the Septa’s tirade, Brienne had remained calm and impassive. Now, a slight smile graced her lips. “They will be calling me his wife soon,”  
The Septa returned to her seat with a thud.  
“What?”  
“Ser Jaime has just received permission from my father to seek my hand in marriage,”  
Septa Roelle barked out a harsh, bitter laugh. “And do you expect me to attend your wedding and offer my congratulations?”  
“No,” Brienne said, “I expect you to leave,”  
The old woman’s face turned white, and seemed to shrink within her chair. “You cannot mean that?”  
“Oh, but I do. You forget Septa, but I know first-hand the damage you can do to a child, and both myself and my husband; whom seeks my bed quite willingly may I add, do not wish to expose any future children we may have to someone as poisonous as your good self. You will be gone within a fortnight,”  
“Have you forgotten the years in which I have served your family?”  
“I have not,” Brienne assured her, “And you will be provided for. But if you are not gone within the next two weeks, you will be thrown from this castle and this Island without a silver stag to your name,”  
A heavy silence reigned between the two as Brienne waited for her old Septa to respond. When no word came, she turned to leave.   
There was nothing left to be said.


	8. Helping Hand

Brienne had been rattling off apologies non-stop ever since they got back from the hospital. He kept telling her that what happened wasn’t her fault, but that didn’t stop her from flinching in guilt every time she laid eyes on his cast.  
“I’m going to make it up to you, I promise!”  
“Listen Wench, there’s really no need-”  
“If you need anything, anything, I’ll be there for you,”  
“… Well, I am in a fuck load of pain,”

0#0

“Wench! I can’t do up these buttons,”  
“Coming Jaime,”  
“You’re doing them up wrong,”  
“Sorry,”

0#0

“OK, I’m ready for the next page,”  
“And why exactly can’t you turn the pages on your own?”  
“I need to use my other hand to hold the book up. Every time I let go, the book slips and I lose my place,”  
“Why are you even reading this in the first place?”  
“What do you mean? It’s a classic!”  
“Fifty Shades of Frey? It’s just some old dude’s escapist fantasy about being worshipped by a harem of young women. I feel repulsed just holding it,”  
“If you’re tired of turning the pages, you could read it out for me,”  
“Seven Hells no!”

0#0

“Wench, this steak is too tough,”  
“Here, let me,”  
“And I can’t spoon up my peas,”  
“There you are,”  
“I need you to feed them to me,”  
“I am not feeding them to you,”  
“You said you’d help with anything. I’d never thought I’d see the day, Brienne Tarth breaking a promise. Leaving her poor, invalid friend to fend for himself, after he was cruelly maimed PROTECTING her-”  
“Fine! I will feed you your wretched peas. There! Are you happy now?”  
“No. I don’t like peas,”

0#0  
  


"For the love of the Seven Jaime, you can scratch your own behind! Just use the other hand!”

0#0

"Hey Wench. Wench. Wench!”  
“What? What is it now? Do you want me to change the channel for you? Take off your shoes and socks for you? Chew up your food for you and feed you like a baby bird?”  
“No, I want to say thank you,”  
“Huh?”  
“I want to say thank you for taking such good care of me,”  
“Oh, you’re welcome,”  
“Great! Now come help me with my zipper, I need to piss!”


	9. Intrigue

The War council was crowded and yet there was an empty space by Olenna’s side. Her dear granddaughter had followed her advice to the letter, but had fallen short in the face of Queen Cersei’s violent lunacy.

The council, made up of Northerners and Southerners, highborns and former slaves, were gathered round Lord Tyrion’s former pet Sell-sword. The coarse, vulgar man had jumped from one Lannister’s pocket to another with a shrug of his shoulders. He now sat before a King who had fought monsters and a Queen who rode dragons, with his legs crossed and his muddied boots on the table.

Lady Olenna rather liked him in truth.

“So, you want me to deliver your terms to your brother and get him to parley with you in secret?” Ser Bronn asked.

“That we do,” Lord Tyrion confirmed.

“Well, I’ll tell you now. Your brother trusts me more than he should, but not enough to when it comes his sister’s life. I’ll admit that things aren’t exactly warm between the two and he may be willing to pack her off to Casterly, but only if he did so knowing she was safe,”

“So, there is no way that he will listen to our terms,” King Jon sighed.

A smirk spread over the Sell-sword’s lips. “I wouldn’t say that. Fortunately for you, I can name the one person he trusts above all else,"

“Really?” Queen Daenerys demanded eagerly, “Who?”

#

“Lady Brienne,” Ser Jaime breathed, the words soft on his lips.

“Ser Jaime,” she murmured.

Ser Davos coughed and shuffled his feet. The pair had been staring at each other for a good five minutes now. When King Jon gave his orders to escort Lady Brienne to a secret parley with the Kingslayer, he had not been sure what to expect. The tenderness in which Ser Jaime spoke the lady’s name had not been it.

Ser Bronn caught his gaze and rolled his eyes.

“Give them time, they’ll be done with the eye fucking soon enough,”

“What?”

“It’s what they always do. Annoying as hell but you learn to live with it. Unless you want to leave them be and give them a chance to fuck properly,” Ser Bronn shrugged at Ser Davos’s outraged face, “What? It’s going to happen sooner or later,”

“We are here to discuss Queen’s Cersei’s terms of surrender. Lady Brienne did not come all this way to.... have _relations_ with the Kingslayer,”

Ser Bronn raised an eyebrow and turned to face the silent pair with a grimace.

“Try telling her that,”


	10. Joy

She was tiny. Larger than most babes to be sure, but so small and fragile, nestled in the crook of Jaime’s arm.

“ _Well done_ Wench,” Jaime whispered hoarsely. He turned to face her, allowing the Lady Brienne Lannister to see the cheek splitting smile on her husband’s face and the tears in his eyes. He went to join her and carefully showed Brienne the hard-won fruits of her labours. The sleeping babe was shrivelled, bald and red and quite possibly the most beautiful thing she had ever seen.

Brienne lifted a weary hand and ran a single finger along her daughter’s cheek.

“She’s so small,” Jaime sighed.

“She certainly didn’t feel that way,” Brienne muttered, closing her eyes and leaning back against the pillows. The red faced, wrinkled creature in her husband’s arms began to fuss and Jaime crooned at it, gently bouncing it up and down.

“She roars like a lion!” he declared proudly. The Maester smiled.

“You’ve got a beautiful, healthy daughter, My Lady,” he assured Brienne, only to find her dead to the world.

Jaime carefully tugged the edge of Brienne’s furs over her shoulders and pressed a kiss to her damp forehead.

“And my wife?” he asked the Maester, “Will she be well?”

“It was a hard labour, that cannot be denied,” the Maester began, “But there does not seem to be any complications. She will need rest, and I intend to keep a close eye on her and the babe,”  
“But you see no immediate cause for concern?” Jaime demanded.

“Not as of yet, no,” the Maester cast a glance at Brienne’s sleeping form, “But the childbed is dangerous, and can carry away many a mother, no matter how healthy.

That Jaime knew all too well. “Her mother died in childbirth,” Jaime informed the Maester, “As did mine. There is still a risk of…” the words died in his throat. The thought of losing Brienne to childbirth, after all she had endured, because of a child he put within her, made him wretch.

“There is a chance,” the Maester conceded, “But I would say it is very slight,”

Jaime let out a breath he was not aware that he was holding and nodded in thanks. “That will be all for now,” he said in way of dismissal, and turned back to his slumbering wife. He waited for the Maester to close the door, before he lay down beside her, the child between the two. Their baby daughter blinked sleepily.

“Long Wench,” he whispered into her ear, “She has your eyes,”

Brienne shifted slightly, but did not awake. The tears returned to Jaime’s eyes as he took in his women sleeping side by side, causing his lids to grow heavy. He allowed himself one last look at the vision before him, before joining them in sleep.


	11. King

Jaime had been signing official documents for a good two hours and was still unable to understand Tommen’s fascination with the seal. In truth, his remaining wrist was starting to hurt. He grimaced as he flexed his fingers. Clearly, he was growing old. He focussed on the document in front of him, trying to take his mind off the former boy king.

“Your Grace!” Ser Addam, now a member of his Kingsguard, called. “The Lady Brienne has arrived,”

“Show her in,” Jaime said, watching the swish of Ser Addam’s white cloak with a wry smile. To think that he now had Kingsguards! At times, he wondered if their insistence on keeping him alive to fulfil his kingly duties was his punishment for killing Aerys. If so, the Gods were even more unjust than he initially believed.

Two hours sitting on that ugly chair; getting his arse eroded away, had left him with the conclusion that Aerys’s death was a mercy killing.

The door creaked open and Brienne walked in, wearing the same battered armour that he had gifted to her so long ago. She paused in the doorway and watched as the heavy oak door slammed shut behind her.

Jaime laid down his quill and leant against his seat. Brienne’s face was red and her hair damp. It made him smile to see her so dishevelled. She had clearly come straight from the stables.

“Lady Brienne,”

Brienne bowed awkwardly, “Your Grace,”

Jaime growled and shoved his chair back, scraping it against the wooden floor. “No. You do not call me that. Not you. For the last six months, it has been non-stop ‘ _Yes Your Grace’_ and ‘ _No your Grace’_ and _‘If it please Your Grace’_. I’m sick to death of it! I will not have it from you too. You call me Jaime or Kingslayer or sister fucker! None of this _‘Your Grace’_ twaddle!”

Brienne nodded obediently. “If it please Your Grace,”

Jaime slammed the chair back into the table and stormed round to meet her.

“Where the hell have you been anyway?”

“In the Stormlands. Ruling it,” Brienne raised an eyebrow, “Like you asked me to,”

“Are how are you finding the reins of leadership?”

“Remember the time we were stuck up in Winterfell, the food stores had run out and we were eating moss found in the tombs? This is worse,”

Jaime smirked, resting his hand on her shoulder.

“That’s only because we were together then and you miss me now,”

Brienne flushed crimson and stared at the ground. Jaime’s eyes widened and his face cracked into a grin.

“You did miss me!”

Brienne glanced swiftly at the window and back to the floor, shifting uneasily. “Of _course_ I missed you,” she whispered hoarsely.

Jaime ran a thumb down her cheek. “Truly?”

Brienne raised her head to meet his eyes. “After all we went through, how can I not? All through the Long Night we fought together, froze together and starved together,”

“So that’s why you want me near you. For the happy memories?”

“No. Because I know that whatever happens I know I can endure it if you are by my side,” Brienne’s flush deepened, and her gaze returned to the ground. “Sorry,” she muttered.

“Don’t be,” Jaime’s hand cupped her cheek and tilted her face upward to meet his eyes. “Because I agree. I agree that we are better together than apart. That being without you means my losing a greater part of myself than my sword hand. That I need you, here, beside me,”

“What are you saying?”

Jaime’s hand ran down from her cheek and grazed her arm, coming to rest on the small of her back. He leant forward to whisper in her ear.

“I want you to marry me and become my queen, Brienne of Tarth,”

Brienne dropped her jaw and staggered backwards into the closed door.

Jaime chuckled lightly. He moved towards her and gently closed her chin. “What do you say, _Your Grace_?”


	12. Late

“Jaime!” Brienne groaned as she checked the fridge, “Triple layer chocolate cake! How could you?”

Jaime looked up from the TV and raised his hands. “I’m sorry?”

Brienne slammed the fridge door. “How am I going to resist that? I’m going to be up all night thinking about that cake now,” she turned to examine herself in the mirror and placed a hand on her belly. “I’m already putting on weight. None of my clothes fit, you must have noticed,”

Jaime had in fact noticed, not that he was complaining. Still, he thought it best to say nothing.

Brienne slumped down on the sofa beside him. “Margaery certainly noticed. She’s taking me shopping on the weekend. I hate shopping with Margaery. It’s as bad as shopping with you,”

“I’m not that bad?” Jaime protested. Brienne raised an eyebrow, remembering the time Jaime had dragged her dress shopping for his father’s fiftieth.

They had ended up in some high-end boutique where Brienne had felt her over six feet body shrink to two inches tall under the scornful sneers of the shop assistant. Jaime had no concept of privacy and kept bursting in her whilst changing to give her his opinion.

Jaime turned back to the TV. “If you hate shopping with Margaery so much, just say no,”

Brienne glared at the screen. “I can’t. It’s like she’s got powers,”

“I wouldn’t be surprised. I bet she’s part of some coven and practises black magic, her and her grandmother. Cersei certainly thinks so. I think that’s why she hates them so much, they wouldn’t let her join,”

Brienne sighed and rested her head against Jaime’s shoulder. “And now I am going to have to eat that chocolate cake and put on even more weight. Which I’m sure you size six sister will be all to glad to point out,”

“You will be glad of that cake in a couple of days,”

“And why’s that?”

“That’s when you start menstruating,”

Brienne started forward and turned to face Jaime in horror. “You know my menstrual cycle?”

Jaime nodded, a smug grin on his face. “I would say like the back of my hand but…” he waved his stump at her. “I always make sure to alert Tyrion so that he can go easy on you at work,”

“Who else knows?” Brienne shrieked.

Jamie grimaced apologetically. “It was meant to be just Tyrion, but Varys found out-”

“Vary!”

“And told father. He wants to know if that you’re regular. Make sure that you will have no problem squeezing out baby lion cubs,”

Brienne buried her face into the cushions. “This is so embarrassing,” she turned to glare at him as he began to rub her back soothingly, “Besides, you’re completely wrong. My period isn’t anywhere near because I would have started cramping by now. And you were wrong about last month too!”

“When was last months?”

There was a silence. Brienne’s face paled in horror. “Oh no,” she whispered.

“Brienne?” Jaime asked tentatively, “What is it?”

Brienne, having lost all power of speech, looked down at her stomach and then back up.

“Oh fuck,” Jaime groaned, gathering Brienne to him and burying his head in her hair. “Well,” he huffed, “At least my father will be happy,”

“Mine won’t be,”

“Oh Fuck!”


	13. Model

“Are you here for the Before and After photos?” Jaime asked, not looking up from the camera.

The tall, ugly woman glowered at him. “Mr Baratheon sent me. He wanted to know if you got his memo concerning Loras Tyrell’s photo shoot,”

“I did,” Jaime returned to his camera, watching Brienne through his camera lens.

“And?”

“No,”

“What?”

“I said no,” Jaime replied, “Are you as deaf as you are ugly? The last thing I need is to do yet another photo shoot for some vapid pretty boy,” he scowled, “I’ve got Daenerys Targaryen coming in later today, to do a shoot for her new perfume. That will be four hours trying to squeeze a modicum of originality from the world’s most photographed face,

“Daenerys Targaryen is very beautiful,” Brienne said, thinking about the silver haired movie star’s flawless skin and lithe body.

“Beautiful? Yes. Skinny? Yes. Interesting? No,” he shrugged, “And any slight traces of character in her face, she insists on being photo shopped away,”

“I’m sure Loras Tyrell will be willing to accept any advice you have for his pictures,” Brienne offered tactfully.

Jaime scoffed. “You’re thick as well as deaf and ugly if you actually believe that,”

Brienne glared and pursed her lips, “I shall tell Renly Baratheon that your is answer is _no_ then,” she turned to storm out.

“Wait!” Jaime yelled.

 Brienne spun round to face him, only to have a flash go off in her face. She spluttered, “What was that?”

Jaime smiled at her innocently. “Nothing,”

#

“Brienne!” Renly called, leaning nonchalantly against the door of his office, “Can you come in here a moment please?”

Brienne followed him eagerly, only to falter when she saw Jaime Lannister; the King of arrogant douchebags, lounging at Renly’s desk.

“What is he doing here?” she demanded.

“Now, now,” Jaime chided, “Don’t forget your manners,”

“Manners?” she fumed, “You’re lecturing me on manners?”

“Jaime,” Renly cut in, “Why don’t I tell Brienne why she is here?”

Jaime just shrugged, and continued smirking at Brienne.

Renly gestured at his desk, pointing towards a large photo. “Take a look at that,”

Brienne caught a glance at the photo and grimaced. Her own face; red, freckled and scowling, glowered up at her.

“What are you doing with that?”

Jaime and Renly exchanged glances. Renly lead Brienne towards his desk and sat her down. The two men stood either side of her, arms crossed and contemplating her with serious expressions.

Renly tilted her chin upwards and gazed into her eyes. Brienne felt a red-hot blush spread across her face.

“It might just work,” Renly told Jaime.

“I said it would,”

Renly released Brienne’s chin and leant back against the desk. “A little bit of eye-shadow and mascara, to highlight her eyes,”

“A blue back drop,” Jaime put in, “With dramatic lighting,”

Brienne waved her hand. “Umm, is anyone planning on telling me what’s going on? Or should I hire an interpreter, because right now nothing you’re saying is making sense,”

“Jaime wants to use you for a shoot,”

Brienne choked, “What?” she turned to stare at him, “Is this some kind of joke?”

Jaime shook his head. “I’m completely serious,”

“But, yesterday you called my ugly. Twice!”

“Ugly is the new cute. You’re also unique, and edgy, and interesting,”

Renly nodded. “You’re a fresh face, something that’s never been seen before,”

“For a good reason!”

“Come on Brienne,” Jaime said, “I never took you for a craven. Who knows, you might enjoy it,”

“No. Never in a million years,”

#

“Alright Brienne, just hold that pose for me,”

“I can’t, I’ve got an eyelash in my eye,”

Jaime sighed and gestured for the make-up team to sort out the eyelash situation. Brienne had been stretched out before him for a good two hours now, reclining elegantly on a kissing couch. Her toned, freckled body was draped in sapphire blue silk. The shimmering silk was hanging off her body as though it had casually been thrown over her, revealing her long white limbs.

A pose which had taken about half an hour to create.

Every two minutes he had to scold her for fidgeting, or trying to scratch her nose. She was completely unprofessional. And yet, the pictures were turning out better than Jaime had dreamed.

It was those eyes. There was something about them that gave her; despite her gargantuan size, a sweet air of vulnerability.

But the wretched woman kept complaining about being uncomfortable, stuck in the same pose. It was not as though she was the only one suffering. The sight of her bare legs had forced him to hide behind the camera.

He focused the lens. “So,” he said, “Do you fancy going out for drinks some time? Or dinner?”

“Not in a million years,”

Jaime smirked. “So that’s a yes then,”


	14. Neck

It was her neck that he couldn’t get over. She had a hole in her cheek that would never heal, where a creature who was more monster than man had feasted upon her. When they arrived at the Lannister camp, Brienne slumped against him like a rag doll, the Maester had taken one look at her festering cheek and told him that she was hanging onto life by a thread.

For three nights Jaime waited by her side. The three longest nights of his life. Everything outside that tent was forgotten. The war, his sister and the dawning of winter. None of that mattered to Jaime. Not when every breath the wench breathed was a fight. He clutched onto Brienne’s cold, clammy hand and watched as her eyes flickered behind her eyelids, battling the demons that waged within her broken body. She cried his name, but when he responded he was unable to reach her. She was in his arms and yet far away, lost in a world of nightmares.

On the third night, her fever broke. She looked him in the eye and was able to choke down some gulps of stew, before drifting off into a silent sleep.

The Maester told him that Lady Brienne was past the worst, but the road to recovery would be long, and the scars on her cheek would never fade. Soon, the scarred cheek became another part of her. A monument to her bravery.

But her neck. Oh, Seven Hells, her neck. Bruises blossomed against her white skin. A grotesque necklace of purple and red and green. Jaime choked when he saw them there. He had dragged her back to the camp, cursing her for betraying him. Then he saw her neck and he realised what she had done for him.

And what he did to her.

He asked Brienne what happened, coaxed the answer from her. He had to hear it from her own lips. When she finally admitted it, he gripped her hand in his and squeezed his eyes shut. He breathed in a deep, ragged breath and forced himself into calm.

“Never give your life for mine again,” he ground out through gritted teeth, “I’m not worth it,”

Brienne scowled indignantly.  “I owe you my life Ser, three times over. I cannot forget that,”

“You would do better if you can. Loyalty to a Lannister, and the king slaying, sister-fucking Lannister at that, isn’t going to do you any favours,”

She took her hand from his and forced herself upright, refusing his assistance with a glare.

“Nevertheless Ser, I owe you my life,”

Jaime rolled his eyes, the stubborn wench was determined to battle her way into an early grave.

“For the love of the Seven Brienne,” Jaime growled, “If you keep on down this path, you will end up dead in a ditch somewhere. Your House will be lost, your father will have no one and I-” he took her hand in his and pressed a furious kiss to her fingers, “I will have lost the one true friend I have ever had,”

Jaime looked up to see those guileless blue eyes widen in astonishment.

“Jaime-” she began, before he cut her off.

“Listen, if you want to repay your debt to me, then make me a vow. You do that so often it should be easy for you. Never give your life mine. Give up your foolish quest and go home. Or come with me. Just cease with this foolish business with the Stark girl and get somewhere safe,”

He already knew Brienne’s answer before she said it.

“No,”

Jaime sighed and pulled Brienne’s body against his own. For those three, tortuous nights, the whole world outside the tent disappeared.

Now he wished it would.


	15. Opposition

Jon Snow, the King in the North and hero of the Battle for Winterfell, was trying and failing to look intimidating. His brooding pout was even larger than usual and the frown on his forehead only served to make him look confused. When Jaime and his comrades had been caught, and dragged before the king like three misbehaving squires, they had almost been worried about the repercussions.

One look at the King in the North’s ‘Angry face’ had put an end to all that.

 “I want you to tell me now, all three of you, what made you think that tying up Tormund Giantsbane and locking him in a room with a bear was a good idea?”

“And I just want to know where you found the bear,” Ser Davos added.

“It was dangerous, idiotic and _very_ mean,” King Jon added. Behind him, Ser Davos Seaworth shook his head in disappointment and tutted.

The three miscreants shuffled their feet and exchanged smirks.

King Jon’s scowl deepened.

“Lord Tyrion,” King Jon sighed, “I expected better from you. Surely you must have known that no good would have come from it,”

Lord Tyrion raised his head. “Your Grace,” he began, “You do not know my brother as I do. But I tell you now, when he falls in love, he falls hard. And I mean plummeting from the top of the Wall and into a hoard of White Walkers hard,” he shook his head and shot his brother a reproachful look, “And once he’s in love, it takes genocide for him to fall out again. As we are all well aware. Now, for the first time in his life, he has given his heart to a woman who is truly worthy. The Lady Brienne is a loyal, honest woman,”

“You forgot to add brave, heroic and marvellous,” Jaime added sulkily.

“With legs you can eat a feast off,” Bronn added, only for Jaime to kick him in the shins.

Tyrion shook his head as Ser Davos and King Jon exchanged looks.

“And if I can help my brother in his romantic endeavors,” Tyrion continued, “Then I shall. Even if it means locking Tormund Giantsbane in a room with a rabid bear,”

“And you Ser Bronn,” King Jon added, “I hardly think that you are so invested in Ser Jaime’s romantic life,”  
Ser Bronn scratched his crotch. “Just thought it would be a laugh to be honest,”

King Jon fixed Ser Jaime with an icy glare. “I’m guessing this whole escapade was your idea then?”

Jaime shrugged petulantly.

“We have enough troubles fighting the White Walkers,” Ser Davos reproached him, “Let alone fighting among ourselves. We have Northmen against Lannisters, Northmen against Wildlings, the last thing we need is Lannisters against Wildlings as well,”

“I don’t have any problems against Wildlings,” Jaime said, “I just have a problem with _that_ Wildling. Him and his stupid ginger beard and stupid waggly eyebrows,” he crossed his arms, “Making eyes at _my_ Wench,”

“How is Tormund Giantsbane?” Tyrion asked, “I’ve heard that he has not left his bed in four days,”

“That is true,” Ser Davos confirmed, “Except…” he exchanged uneasy glances with King Jon.

“Except?” Tyrion asked.

“Except… neither has the bear!”


	16. Pit

“You told me that Cersei and the Kingslayer were devoted to each other! That they would do anything to keep the other safe,”

“No!” Tyrion replied in horrified dismay, “I said that Jaime was devoted to Cersei, and would do anything to keep her safe. Cersei will only keep him safe for as long as it is convenient,”

“And when you’re demanding the throne in return for his life,” Varys added, “It is no longer convenient,”

Dany looked in horror over the Dragon Pit, where Jaime Lannister was chained to a pillar, utterly defenceless and without even a shirt to protect him. In the sky, a black creature loomed, circling ever closer.

Tyrion followed the dragon with his eyes, wincing as it flew across the sun.

“You have to get him out of there,” He clutched the edge of Dany’s gown, “Please,”

“I agree your Grace,” Varys put in, “If Ser Jaime dies, then it would be the end of any chance of allying with the Westerlands,”

“Fuck the Westerlands!” Tyrion cried, “Get my brother out of there!”

Dany watched the sky as Dragon approached, a shadow passing over the occupants of the stands.

“I will give orders for him to be released,” she decided.

“It’s too late,” Varys said, “Your dragon is too close. You must call him off,”

Dany looked at the white stricken face of her Hand. She gathered up her skirts and charged down the steps into the pit.

Varys lay a hand on Tyrion’s shoulder. “She is too far away. Look away my friend, there is nothing that can be done for your brother now,”

As he spoke, cries broke out from the audience. Varys whipped his head around, to watch as a single figure landed into the pit from one of the lower stands with a thud. The figure raised a sword that flashed in the sun and brought it down upon Ser Jaime’s chains, before promptly grabbing a hold of the knight and dragging him away from the stream of flames that burst from the dragon’s mouth.

“Apart from that,”

#

King Jon and his companion exchanged uneasy looks as they gathered outside the Dragon pit. From within, they could hear tense voices buzzing like a hornet’s nest. They were meant to join the Queen in her stand, but on hearing the voices they resolved to enter by the nearest entrance and discover the cause for commotion.

King Jon swore as he took in the sight. “She promised that she would try and make an alliance with the Lannisters! What the fuck is she doing?”

Horrified gasps rose from the crowds as the fearsome beast landed into the pit. Brienne searched desperately for the Lannister Queen. Cersei watched from her stand, her face white and still.

“She isn’t doing anything,” Brienne groaned, “Why isn’t she doing anything?”

The dragon folded its wings, tensed and breathed in.

“My Lady!”

Jon could only blink as his sister’s devoted sworn sword grabbed a hold of the stand and hurled herself over. Ser Davos caught a hold of Podrick by his waist as the boy desperately tried to follow his mistress down into the pit.

Brienne could only see Ser Jaime, helpless and chained, as she raced across the pit. The terrified cries and approaching dragon were a mere blur. All that mattered was her friend, who had clenched his jaw and shut his eyes as he waited for death.

Brienne swung her sword, the Valyrian steal slicing through the chains like paper. She snatched Ser Jaime by the arm, yanking him away from the onslaught of flames.

“Brienne?” Jaime asked, barely only able to register the face of his saviour before the two were on the ground, rolling away from another burst of fire. They landed in the sand, Brienne’s body shielding Jaime.

“Drogon!” a voice cried, “Away!”

Queen Daenerys stood in the entrance of the pit. “Away!” she repeated.

The dragon huffed, indignant at being deprived of its snack, before spreading its wings and making for the sky.

Brienne and Jaime looked into each other’s eyes, their foreheads slick with sweat and their breathing quick and shallow. Smiles slowly spread over their faces and they each released a shaky laugh, astonished at their own survival.

Jaime’s face then grew hard and cold. He planted his hand and stump against Brienne’s chest and shoved her away. He pulled himself up and glared at Wench, as she returned to her feet and brushed the sand off her clothes.

“What the fuck were you thinking?” he hissed.

“That dragon is very big, I hope it doesn’t kill us,” Brienne replied.

Jaime paused.

“Well anything else would have seemed irrelevant,”

“No, yeah, fair enough,” Jaime agreed.

They both glanced around the stands, where a shocked silence had fallen upon the spectators.

“Cersei didn’t do anything,” Jaime murmured.

“No,” Brienne confirmed.

“And I don’t think she was expecting you to come along and save me,” Jaime added.

Brienne shook her head.

 He turned to Brienne with a rakish smile. He grabbed a hold of her hand and tugged her forwards.

“She won’t be expecting this either,” he said.

Then he kissed her.


	17. Queen

She still wasn’t used to having guards outside her door. They had been stationed there ever since the announcement was made. Each one was sworn to defend her, fight for her and die for her if need be. The whole arrangement was extremely disturbing and Brienne was yet to wrap her head around it. During the first week of having guards posted outside her chambers, she awoke in the middle of the night to hear them moving outside her door. She hauled herself out of bed; half asleep, and was half-way across the room before she realised that there was no need for her to take the next shift.

Now, the night before her wedding, she still found the situation disconcerting. Brienne could not help but think of all the people she had knelt before and sworn her sword to. It seemed such a natural thing to do. Did any of them ever question; the way that she did, what right they had to accept another person laying down their life for theirs.

One more night. Tomorrow she would be a wife and a queen, cloaked and crowned in a ceremony watched by crowds of hundreds.

“The whole thing will turn out to be quite the spectacle, and no doubt extremely tedious” Jaime had complained, voicing Brienne’s own thoughts, “But the people are tired of just surviving. Now that Spring is approaching, they want entertainment. Something to find amusement in,”

No doubt they would find much amusement in their Queen. The blue velvet gown made Brienne look as nice as she was ever going to get, but the fact remained that she was always going to be more comfortable in leather and steel than silk and velvet.

The dress was laid out, the rich folds of its skirts glinting in the candlelight. Brienne stared at it, transfixed, before rolling over into her silk cushions in a desperate bid for sleep. She would need all her strength for tomorrow.

She lay on one side of the bed, then another. She stretched her legs and then curled into a huddle. Nothing helped.

Groaning in frustration, Brienne kicked off her covers and marched towards the window. She pressed her head against the cool glass and closed her eyes.

“Enjoying the view?”

Brienne spun round to find Jaime behind her, candle in hand and bed robe over his bare chest. She jumped and stumbled into her vanity.

“Is everything alright in there m’lady?” one of her guards called.

“Everything’s fine,” she called back in a shaky voice. She glared as she saw Jaime smirk, his candle throwing shadows over his handsome, rugged face.

“How did you get in?” she hissed.

Jaime jerked his head towards the wall behind him, which Brienne saw now had an opening, revealing a long, stone tunnel.

“There’s a passage between your chambers and mine. That’s why I arranged for you to have these rooms,”

Brienne stepped past him to inspect the tunnel. “How long have you known about the passage?”

“A while now,” Jaime joined her, “I’ve used it a couple of times before. I like to watch you sleep,”

Brienne blanched. “You don’t?” she cried.

Jaime kept his face straight for a moment, before his lips twitched and he barked out a laugh. “Of course not! How perverted would that be?” Seeing that Brienne’s face remained white and taught, Jaime sighed and reached for her. He ran his finger down her cheek, cupped her chin and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

“Just think of it as another battle,” he murmured into her hair.

“Most weddings these days tend to turn out that way,” Brienne pointed out. Jaime gave a throaty chuckled, sending shivers down Brienne’s spine.

“It’s not just the wedding, but what comes after,”  
Jaime’s forehead creased. “Oh?”

Brienne clenched her fists. “I’ve never broken a vow before,” she confessed, “And I don’t intend to start. But I know that keeping this one will be the hardest,”

Jaime remained silent.

“It’s just… becoming queen. Swearing to help rule all those people. You say you want me to lead alongside you. I was never meant to lead,”  
Jaime’s body softened and his arms encircled her waist.

“I think you are a greater leader than you give yourself credit for,” he told her. He placed his chin over her shoulder. “And me?” he whispered finally, “Do you think you can bear to swear yourself to me?”

At this Brienne had to laugh. What a ludicrous question! Swear herself to him. Surely, he must know, she had already sworn herself to him long ago.


	18. Royals

Brienne watched Queen Cersei glide across the room. The Queen approached her, a gentle smile on her face and her delicate fingers outstretched in greeting. The train of her honey-gold gown whispered across the floor and the rubies studded on her breast glowed and flickered in the low light like the flames of a candle.

Brienne stiffened and made to move away, only to have Jaime’s hard golden hand push firmly into her back, the cold metal pressing through the silk of her gown.

“Don’t panic,” he hissed from the corner of his mouth, “Cersei considers herself too cunning to insult you openly. And I daresay you’re too much of a fool to recognise any slight she might deliver,”

Brienne rolled her eyes. “If you think I have not come to recognise slights, no matter how subtle, then you’re the fool,”

Jaime offered Brienne a slight grin from the corner of his mouth, before making his face go cold and impassive.

“Sister,” Jaime cocked his head and bowed, Brienne following him with a murmured “Your Grace,”

“Brother,” Cersei smiled, offering him her hand to kiss. Jaime pressed his tightly shut lips to the diamond ring on her finger.

“Lady Brienne,” Cersei continued, “How well you look. I do believe that your scars have become less livid since last we met,”

Brienne forced her face into stillness, delivering Jaime a slight jab to his ribs, his lips twitched ever so slightly.

“I thank your Grace,” Brienne nodded. Cersei smiled, barring her teeth.

“And that gown? It’s so unique. How wonderful that you find a dress that fits you so well,”

Brienne’s eyes flickered towards Jaime. “Thank you, Your Grace. Your brother had this gown made for me”,

The smile on Cersei’s face wavered. “Did he?” she turned to Jaime for confirmation.

Jaime allowed himself to smile. “I did,” he ran an affectionate hand down Brienne’s arm, “I did not think it would be appropriate for my guest to be shoddily clothed,”

Cersei’s smile became fixed. “I do hope your guest has made herself quite comfortable here at Court, she has been here a while now,”

Jaime shot Brienne a conspiratorial look. He jerked his shoulders, might as well go in for the kill.

“Actually Sister, Brienne will be leaving court very soon. She will be joining me when I return to Casterly Rock,”

“Oh?”

“As my wife. The _Lady_ of Casterly Rock,”

The smile on Cersei’s face disappeared, and for a moment Jaime felt a surge of pity. Ever since being released from the Sept, Cersei’s power had waned. Her title of Regent had been stripped from her, and the few loyal servants; such as the odious Lord Qyburn, left to her were summarily dismissed.

“I see you have told her the wonderful news!” a charming voice trilled. All heads turned to see Queen Margaery float across the room, her arms outstretched. Brienne found herself pulled into the Little Queen’s arms, engulfed in the smell of roses. “Oh, my dear Lady Brienne! My darling Tommen told me all about it,”

“Tommen knew?” Cersei whispered.

Margaery nodded. “Tommen told me in the strictest confidence, no one else was to know. And of course, I am so pleased for you,” she pressed a kiss to Brienne’s cheek and linked her arm in her own, “We shall be family. You must call me sister,”  
Brienne blushed. “Your Grace does me a great honour,”

“I know that technically you will be my Aunt, but I feel you are too young for me to address you as such,” she smiled pleasantly at Cersei, “Don’t you agree, Mother?”

Cersei’s lips thinned. She nodded stiffly. “Will you excuse me?”

With that, she turned and strode away, swiping a goblet of wine from a passing page.

Margaery patted Brienne’s arm and left the couple in peace.

Brienne turned to Jaime. “Well, I certainly recognised the slights your sister aimed at me. Do you think your sister recognised any?”

Jaime groaned. “Undoubtedly,” he wrapped his arm round Brienne’s shoulders, “Thank the Seven we are leaving for Casterly Rock. I would not wish to, but I think we leave Tommen in safe hands with the Tyrells. Queen Margaery has proved herself more than equal to our Cersei,”

Brienne watched Margaery mingle with the rest of the guests, oblivious to the daggers coming from Cersei’s eyes.

“Well,” she said, “She’s a braver woman than I,”


	19. Stolen

Tormund took a deep, calming breath. He could do this. He was the Husband of Bears! The glorious Lady Knight from the South would be no problem compared to that. He faltered as he reached the bottom of the tower in which his warrior Goddess slept. He looked up, noting the single candle flickering in her window and sighed with a longing he had never known. Fuck, the moon was beautiful tonight. It shone silver in the sky like a polished steel shield, the ones those poncy Southern knights used. Even the wisps of steam floating gently from the horse dung seemed beautiful to the love-sick Wildling.

He had never felt this way before. There was an aching in his heart as well as his breeches. He had tried to keep his promise to Jon and leave Lady Brienne alone, heeding his words that stealing a southerner would only create even more distrust between them and the Wildlings.

But after seeing that fucking southern pretty boy with only one hand looking at her, touching her, he knew something had to be done.

Tormund had more to offer than Jaime fucking Lannister, and tonight, he was going to show her that.

He began his ascent up the tower, digging his hook into the wall and hauling himself upwards, pushed on by the thought of his beloved’s warm arms. Her strong, muscular arms….

He finally reached her window and lurked outside, straining his ears for movement. Through the muffled glass, he could hear her voice.

“What are you doing here!” Lady Brienne cried, causing Tormund to start and nearly lose his grip.

“I had to see you,” another voice replied. Tormund scowled as a figure crossed the room and took Lady Brienne’s arm. It was that bloody southern tosser, Jaime Lannister.

“I didn’t have a chance to talk to you earlier,” Lannister continued, “Not with all those people. And I couldn’t wait any longer. Not after I’ve come all this way to see you,”

“To see me?” Brienne asked incredulously, “Doesn’t the army of White Walkers having anything to do with it?”

“Well, a bit” Lannister conceded, “But all through my journey here I thought of you,” he gathered the stunned Lady Brienne to his chest. “And watching you ride away, that’s when I knew I had to follow you. It seemed to me, that we have said goodbye far too many times. I thought it was time for a hello,”

Tormund watched as Lannister ran a finger along the Lady’s mouth and waited for her to respond to the fucker’s declaration.

She nodded. “Well, if you’ve come all this way. Hello, Ser Jaime,”

Ser Jaime laughed. “That’s what I came here for,” he said, before pressing his lips against hers. She stiffened and broke away, shaking her head.

“This is madness,” she said, “If either of us survive it would be a miracle!”

Ser Jaime pulled her back. “Meeting you was the miracle. To fight and die by your side would be a blessing, and one a man such as I could never hope to deserve,”

“I’d rather hope neither of us die,”  
Ser Jaime nodded solemnly. “In that case, I shall try very hard not to die, for your sake,”

This time, when he kissed her, she made no protests.

Tormund watched the two knights embrace, their features warmed and softened by the fire blazing in the fire place. Stuck out in the cold winter’s air, Tormund sighed and began his decline.

Clearly, some things were simply not meant to be.


	20. Texts

**_Tyrion! I’m going to do it, tonight. :)_ **

****

**_Finally! Have you found a ring then?_ **

**_Did Dad let you look in the vaults?_ **

****

**_He did. I spent hours trying to find the perfect one._ **

**_My top got all dusty._ **

****

**_But you found a ring you liked in the end?_ **

****

**_Better. You’ll have to wait and see ;)_ **

**_I’ve spent the entire day setting up._ **

**_I had to get Sansa Stark to take her out._ **

**_I now owe a debt to a Stark? >: p_ **

****

**_You nervous?_ **

****

**_Why would I be nervous?_ **

****

**_She might say no?_ **

****

**_We’re meant to be, I know it!_ **

**_I was a bit worried about her finding out_ **

**_though._ **

****

**_It shouldn’t be that hard keeping it a secret._ **

**_You’ve managed to keep the fact that_ **

**_the two of you are actually dating hidden pretty well._ **

****

**_#_ **

****

**_Margaery, you have got to save me!_ **

****

**_Brienne? What’s wrong?_ **

****

**_Sansa has dragged me out for a girl’s day._ **

**_We’ve been shopping since breakfast._ **

**_I’m tired, I don’t know how much more I can take._ **

****

**_Have you tried talking to her?_ **

****

**_No. But I nearly managed to escape when_ **

**_she was looking at a pair of Dany T’s._ **

**_She caught me and dragged me back into the shop._ **

**_I tell you, those fake nails she’s got on hurt!_ **

****

**_Where are you now?_ **

****

**_We’re outside Roelle’s. Please help me Marge._ **

**_I hate dress shopping! :(_ **

****

**_You’re going to Roelle’s! I love Roelle’s._ **

**_Tell Sansa I’m joining you now! :)_ **

****

**_Marge! That’s not what I meant._ **

****

**_#_ **

****

**_Ned, have you heard?_ **

**_Lannister is going to ask Brienne_ **

**_to marry him!_ **

****

**_I’ve heard Cat. Sansa told me._ **

****

**_I don’t like this Ned, Jaime isn’t good_ **

**_enough for her._ **

****

**_I didn’t even know they were dating._ **

****

**_She kept it under wraps._ **

**_I must say, I’m rather hurt_ **

**_she hasn’t told me anything._ **

****

**_I know you’re fond of her Cat, but she’s_ **

**_an adult. You can’t expect to know everything_ **

**_going on in her life._ **

****

**_I suppose so._ **

****

**_By the way, have you heard from Robert_ **

**_lately? He hasn’t called me in ages._ **

****

**_#_ **

****

**_Tyrion, I suppose you are now_ **

**_aware that your brother intends_ **

**_to ask Miss Tarth to marry him._ **

****

**_Yes father._ **

****

**_Good.  I have posted a security team_ **

**_outside their flat in case Miss Tarth_ **

**_panics and makes a run for it._ **

****

**_Don’t you think that’s bit extreme?_ **

****

**_Hardly, I want grandchildren._ **

**_By the way, you haven’t heard from your_ **

**_sister have you? She hasn’t responded to_ **

**_any of my calls._ **

****

**_If you haven’t spoken to her,_ **

**_then she certainly hasn’t spoken to me._ **

****

**_#_ **

**_Loras Baby! Guess what? Lannister is_ **

**_asking Brienne to marry him._ **

****

**_What? I didn’t know they were together._ **

****

**_Neither does she. Lol! Do you think_ **

**_she will make me her best man?_ **

****

**_If Lannister can really stomach going_ **

**_through with it._ **

****

**_Be nice._ **

****

**_Whatever. Ugh. I don’t care how_ **

**_great the view is, moving next to your brother_ **

**_was a bad idea. Not only do Robert and Cersei fight all night,_ **

**_now’s there a rancid stench coming from next door._ **

****

**_#_ **

****

**_OMFG Sansa! You won’t_ **

**_believe what happened!_ **

****

**_I take it Jaime has asked you then?_ **

****

**_You knew?_ **

****

**_Of course! So, what did you say?_ **

****

**_I said yes! Well, I may have choked first._ **

**_But once I coughed up the chicken bone I accidentally_ **

**_inhaled, I said yes._ **

****

**_What’s the ring like?_ **

****

**_It’s not a ring. He got me sword. He knelt_ **

**_down before me and recited the knight’s oath._ **

****

**_That’s so weird and romantic. :)_ **

****

****

**_#_ **

**_Jaime. I love you. I love you._ **

**_I need you now as I have never_ **

**_needed you before._ **

****

**_….New phone, who dis?_ **

****

**_#_ **

**_Tyrion, she said yes! :)_ **

**_We’re celebrating right now!_ **

****

**_I knew she would. So, how’d it go?_ **

****

**_Wefherf <>{Loajwdkads@{ehsajhd/?@#_ **

****

**_Jamie?_ **

****

**_Khrfeudfnjdjjwfenfnequi!!!!!!!!!!!!_ **

****

**_I’ll text you later ;)_ **


	21. Unfortunate

“Have you ever seen a more unfortunate creature?” Jaime’s head jerked up and followed Randyll Tarly’s line of sight. The Lord of Hornhill was watching Brienne enter the Great Hall, a sneer gracing his lips.

 “The Gods must have been particularly cruel the day they forced such an abomination onto the Evenstar,”

Tarly took Jaime’s silence as consent to continue. “Lord Tarth is a good man, I know not what he could have done to have the God’s bestow such a curse upon him. All three of his other children dead, and he’s left with the aberration. Poor man,”

Upon entering the Hall, Brienne had been scanning the crowd furtively for a sign of Jaime. He caught her eye, but on seeing with whom he was conversing, she took a step back and retreated into the shadows.

Jaime envied her. Ever since returning to King’s Landing to take up the mantle of Regent, Jaime had found it necessary to engage with many personages he would rather avoid.

His intent on approaching Lord Tarly that evening was to discuss the conditions of the imprisonment of Queen Margaery and her little roses, until such time that she went to trial.

It was not to hear the Lady Brienne be insulted.

His fingers turned white as they tightened round the stem of his goblet.

“You know the Lady well?” he asked in a quiet voice.

Tarly glowered. “I met her in Lord Renly’s camp. Wretched girl was trying to play at knights and made a fool of herself. The men in the camp made a bet over who could take her maidenhood, flattering her and paying court,”

“Indeed?” Jaime murmured softly.

“I put a stop to it, of course. But if they had forced themselves on her it would have been no one’s fault but her own,”

Jaime said nothing, but quietly tracked Brienne’s movements with his eyes. She was casting panicked glances over her shoulder, watching the two men talk.

“I pity her father, but he must shoulder some of the blame. He was far too soft on the wretch. I wouldn’t stand such nonsense from my children. If she was my daughter, she would have felt the birch on her back every day until she learned her place,”

Jaime turned to face Lord Tarly, his eyes calm and impassive. “Do you really think that you could change her character so completely?”

Tarly nodded. “I would have her caned until she was tractable as suits a lady, and keep her locked from the sun to stunt her growth. I would never think of indulging her the way Tarth did. Then I would have found her a husband, someone who could keep a firm hand over her. If she proved so utterly repulsive that no man would touch her; which would not surprise me, it would be the Silent Sisters,” he finished his goblet and thrust it out for a passing page to refill.

“You would treat your own child so?”

“Of course. I sent my son to the Wall, craven that he is. I would have not such a disgrace for a woman besmirch my House, and I would suggest Lord Tarth do the same,”

Tarly turned to Jaime.

“I heard you picked her up in the Riverlands, offered her protection,”

Jaime nodded. “I did,”

“That’s where she got her cheek torn off, wasn’t it? It was only a matter of time. Traipsing round the Kingdom like that, what could she expect to happen?” he snorted, “And now she’s in love with you,”

Jaime’s head whipped round. “What did you say?” he demanded.

“The freak’s in love with you. She’s got the same look on her face every time she looks at you that she had whenever she saw Renly. The same, big cow eyes and look of slavish devotion,”

Jaime had the rumours of course, but denied them. To think that a Lady such as Brienne, could love a man such as he? It was madness. And yet, he still remembered how she called his name while she laid injured in his bed.

“If she loves me, then she is a fool,”  
“Oh she is a fool, undoubtedly,”

Jaime nodded. “Quite,” he said. He then calmly finished his wine and placed it gently on the side, before swinging his golden hand round into Tarly’s gaping mouth. The great Lord was thrown backwards and smacked the back of his head against the hard, polished floor.

Jaime strode brusquely down the Great Hall, not turning once to look at Tarly struggle to regain his feet, wine and blood mingling on his doublet.

Jaime grabbed a hold of the shell-shocked Brienne, his golden hand on the base of her spine, the other at the back of her head.

“You’re a fool for loving me,” he growled, before bruising her lips with his own, “And so am I,”


	22. Visiting Hours

Brienne propped herself up against the crisp, white pillows. She stared at the TV in the corner of the room, angling herself carefully so as to avoid seeing her reflection. Even the sight of her clean, white bandages made her stomach lurch, knowing the mess they concealed beneath.

She had awoken from surgery two hours ago. She had gone into surgery two days ago. Two days. It seemed such an unbelievingly long time for her to have missed, yet the time it took for her life to change seemed ludicrously short.

She closed her eyes, begging for sleep. The interview with the police and the drugs they had her on had left her fatigued and weary, but every time she tried to succumb to the exhaustion in her body all she could see was Pod’s terrified white eyes and thrashing legs and. the intestines hanging from Hyle’s stomach.

And teeth. Sharp, bloodied teeth snapping and lunging at her, burying itself into her soft cheek and ripping out the flesh.

Her eyes shot open and she stared fixedly at the TV, trying to drown out the memories of Podrick’s dying screams with the tinny laughter from the show.

“Sir! You can’t go in there, visiting hours are over,”

Brienne stared at the door, eyes widening as she heard a familiar voice. Despite the pain in her chest and cheek, a warmth seemed to spread throughout her body as she heard the voice’s response.

“My father owns this hospital! If you have a problem, take it up with him,” he retorted, barging into her room.

“Jaime?” Brienne asked in shock, “What are you doing here? You’re meant to be in King’s Landing,”

Jaime came to stand by her bed, a ferocious concern flashing in his eyes. The sight of him, so strong and safe and sure, after having not seen him in such a long time, was too much.

“I came to see you of course,” he said, “I took the first plane here the moment I heard. I would have been here earlier, but I only found out you were here after you came out of surgery,” he took her hand into his own. “How are you feeling?”

Brienne rolled her head away. “Fine,” she muttered, “Did you hear what happened to Pod and Hyle?”

Jaime nodded, squeezing her hand. “I did,"   

The two fell into a silence, salty tears tracking down Brienne’s sore cheeks. Jaime’s hand twitched, itching to wipe away her tears. He stiffened awkwardly. He knew Brienne hated being watched while she cried. “Do you want me to leave,”

Brienne shook her head, holding back a bitter laugh. She had yearned for Jaime for so long, ever since they had called it off, Brienne had been aware of a constant ache in her stomach that refused to fade, even as the distance between them grew. The reason she had joined Hyle and Pod on their trip to the Riverlands in the first place had been to get away from Jaime.

Now all she wanted was to be near him.

Jaime sat beside her, gently running his fingers up and down Brienne’s arm. They did not talk. Brienne was merely content to have him by her side as she let her silent tears flow.

“Did the Doctor’s tell you? About my face, I mean?”

“They did,”

Brienne found herself laughing. “It’s stupid. It’s not as though I’m losing much. And look at poor Pod and Hyle, they lost their lives! Here I am weeping over my wretched cheek,”

Jaime gathered Brienne into his arms and rocked her slowly as she wept hysterically against his chest. Her buried his face into her hair, kissing her forehead.

Finally, Brienne took a shaky breath and broke away from Jaime’s grasp. He helped her to rest against her pillows, leaving a lingering hand on her shoulder.

“You should rest now,” he told her.

Brienne nodded, sinking into her pillows. She frowned, blinking blearily as she took in Jaime’s clothes.

“You’re wearing a tux,” she muttered, “Joffrey’s wedding? It was today,”

Jaime shrugged. “You’re more important,” he told her, “Now go to sleep, I’ll be right here when you wake up,”

And so she did.

                                                                                                 


	23. Wedding

The storms that had snarled and roared all throughout the winter had been appeased and settled into a heavy slumber beneath the thick blanket of snow. Cracks of sunlight had started to flicker against the dark, smoky sky and Brienne could have sworn she had seen a glimmer of green buried against the never-ending landscape of white and grey.

Colour was such a rare sight that Brienne had stumbled into her vanity on seeing the blue and rose cloak spread out over her bed.

She ran her finger over the fine embroidery, the delicately stitched suns and crescent moons, and stroked the collar. The fur was thicker and glossier than she had been wearing this past winter, sleek and dark.

“So how do you like it?”

Brienne turned around to find Lady Sansa standing in the doorway, watching her eagerly.

“it’s very fine my Lady, though I’m not sure why-”

Lad Sansa strode forward and cut her off. “It’s just a small trifle. A thank you for the services you have done my family,” she gently lifted the cloak, “And long overdue, I do believe,”

Brienne blushed and ducked her head, “I thank you most kindly my Lady. There is no need-” she stammered, only to have Lady Sansa to reach up and drape the cloak round her shoulders.

“Turn around,” she said, “I want to see how it fits,”

Brienne obediently turned around and stood still as Sansa fussed with the collar.

“There,” she smiled in satisfaction, “It’s perfect,”

Brienne considered the embroidery. “It looks like a maiden’s cloak,”  
Sansa let out a shaky laugh. “Fancy that,”

#

 “Lady Brienne,” Jaime said, eyes widening as he took in the sight of her, “I did not think to see you here,”

Brienne was joined by Sansa, King Jon and several other members of the Northern court, but Jaime did not see fit to speculate on their presence.

“That blue cloak becomes you, it goes well with your eyes,” he continued.

Brienne blushed despite herself and smiled at the ground. As she did, King Jon stepped forward and addressed the company.

“Is everyone here?” he asked, “Then let’s begin. Who comes here before the Old Gods this-”

“Wait?” Jaime said quickly, exchanging confused looks with Brienne, “What’s going on?”

“You’re getting married,” Ser Davos explained, turning to face Brienne, “His Grace asked me to give you away my Lady. I don’t know why. I think it’s because of the beard,”

“It is the beard,” Jon confirmed, “It makes you look all fatherly,”

Jaime blanched and Brienne’s head whipped desperately in all directions, looking for an escape. Behind them, a small group of armed men had gathered.

“Don’t we have a say?” Brienne demanded.

Tyrion provided the answer to that question. “No,”

Bronn went onto explain. “To put it quite frankly, we’re fucking sick of you. We’re sick of your pining, the eye fucking and the way his Lordship goes into a sulk every time you speak to the Bearfucker! You’re getting married, and you’re getting married now. That way you can stop making us miserable and start making each other miserable. The way things are going, you’re gonna end up even broodier than his Grace there,”

Jon didn’t respond. He was brooding. The mention of fathers had sent him into an angst break.

“Shall we continue?” Ser Davos asked, “Your Grace?”

Jon nodded. “We shall,”

“No!” Brienne protested, “Let’s not continue,”

Jaime stepped forward and gently took Brienne’s arm. He lowered his head and murmured into her hear. “Come now my Lady. I wish for it no more than you do. But our King has commanded it, on pain of death,”

Brienne tilted her head, “Well,” she said hesitantly, “If our King commands it. And on pain of death,”

“Actually,” Jon put in, “No one said anything about on pain of death,”

“Shut it,” Jaime snapped, “Now get on with the ceremony, before she changes her mind!”


	24. eXcess

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I cheated on the name. 'Xylophone' and 'Xenophobia' just weren't doing it for me.

At the dawn of Winter, leagues of men marched North in thousands. Now a handful returned. Each man had grown accustomed to fear and frost and death. To them, suffering was as familiar as a blanket. As winter raged, all accepted their fate as mortal beings and did not assumed to dream of a future.

The tantalising glimpses of Spring filled them with fear as much as hope. They had left the bodies of their friends behind and rode forward to fulfil their life sentence, heading for a home they were no longer certain existed.

At the head of a small party, Jaime urged his horse on forward, cantering around the remains of the camp and circling back to his companions.

“My Lady!” he called, “Do you know this place?”

Brienne cast an indifferent glance round the camp and shrugged. She slumped down into her seat, huddling beneath the warm fur cloak that Jaime had draped upon her shoulders when her own had been destroyed by an impromptu dance with a stray wolf. “Should I?”

Jaime scowled, sulky as a young boy, before turning to address Ser Davos.

“Would you believe it, good Ser, that my Lady does not recognise the place where we first met? Why, it is from this very place that I stand now, covered in chains and shit, where first I saw my Lady. From all sides, Northmen called for my death. And yet it was the sight of Lady Brienne; so strong and proud and noble, that had me quivering in my seat. I still remember the very image of her to this day, and she forgets!”

Ser Davos smiled slightly. “Shocking, my Lord,”

The meagre party dismounted from their horses and set about making the abandoned campsite fit for habitation.

Jaime fell into step beside Brienne, joining her in her search for dry firewood.

“Do you truly not remember our first meeting?” he demanded.

Brienne glowered. “Indeed, I do Ser. You called me a beast and had to verify with Lady Catelyn that I was in truth a Lady,”

Jaime smiled fondly. “Happy days,” he sighed.

“Then shortly after, you kindly informed me that I was uglier by daylight,”

“Conversely, that meant I found you beautiful by moonlight,”

“Before inquiring as to whether my interest lay with men, women or horses,”

Jaime smirked. “Well, I know the answer to that one now, don’t I?”

His brisk stride slowed and faltered into a contemplative dawdle. “It is almost amusing,” he mused, “To think of our first meeting. Of how when we came face to face the first time, neither one of us expected to be standing where we stood now. I would never have believed; as I know now, that moment would prove to be the start of everything,”

Brienne blushed and stared at the floor, lengthening her stride.

 He caught up with her and wrapped his arms from behind, placing his remaining hand upon her belly, “I’m glad you remember, I daresay it will be quite a tale for our children,”

Brienne ground to a halt. “Children!” she cried, “You want children?”

Jaime nuzzled into her neck, breathing in the sweet, tangy smell of her sweat. “Oh yes,” he confirmed, “I want ten,”

“Ten!” Brienne sputtered, “And how many of these ten children do you plan to bear?”

Jaime chuckled. “It is quite a high number, but I’m sure we can manage it. We will need to start soon, true, but then I have never known you to turn your back on a challenge,”

Brienne merely shook her head, numb with shook. Jaime hooked a single finger beneath her and chin and stared up into her eyes. “There is no need to panic my Lady,” he assured her, “We need not be hasty about it. We have all the time in the world,”


	25. Youths

Lady Brienne Tarth, daughter of the Evenstar of Tarth and future Lady of Casterly Rock, crossed her arms over the front of her jewel encrusted bodice and scowled. Lady Joanna Lannister found that she had to smile somewhat at the child’s sulky face, homely as it was. Jaime himself was kicking miserably at the ground and tugging at his new velvet doublet. He still resented Cersei being sent away to be fostered in Dorne and was not the slightest bit inclined to make friends with this ugly, lumbering creature.

Joanna had hoped that he may welcome the company. Ever since her beloved Tywin had died, many of the young boys sent to become pages at Casterly had been sent to other households, and Jaime was left with baby Tyrion for company. With no one his age to play with, the Lord of Lannister had grown lonely.

It had been a God send when Lord Tarth had requested she take his young daughter into her household. Lord Selwyn had written to her, explaining that his daughter was without a mother to show her how to be a Lady, and as his heir he felt it would benefit her to grow under the care of the Regent of Casterly Rock. What had begun with plans to have Lady Brienne fostered soon grew into marriage negotiations.

Now, at long last, the future bride and groom came face to face. The meeting had not gone well. Jaime had stuck his tongue out at Brienne and called her ugly, who in turn had petulantly thrown a handful of mud into the Jaime’s face. The two were soon involved in a vicious scrap, kicking and biting in the ground.

The parents hauled them apart and laughed off their children’s behaviour. But Lord Selwyn’s laughter had swiftly turned to tears as the time came for him to say goodbye to his daughter. Lady Joanna had been touched to see the great giant of a man pull his girl into his arms for one last hug. She reached out and placed a delicate hand upon the young girl’s trembling shoulders.

“I shall love her as my own,” she assured him, remembering with a pang the day she sent Cersei away. Lord Selwyn nodded, his pursed lip wobbling, and knelt before his daughter.

“I have a gift for you,” he told her and presented her with; of all things, a sword.

Brienne’s eyes lit up as she reached out to grab it, only for Selwyn to hold it back.

“It’s not a toy,” he told her solemnly, “And you must promise to practice with it every day,”

“I will father,” she said, nodding vigorously, “I promise you I will,”

It was only then that Lord Selwyn allowed her take it. Lady Joanna grimaced at the sight of the thing. Cersei had been the same, desperate to learn, but Joanna could not understand the appeal. Why bother fighting yourself when you can order others to do it for you?

Jaime’s eyes widened as he took in the weapon. “Do you fight?” he demanded.

“Of course I do,” Brienne stuck up her chin imperiously, “I’ve been learning for two years,”

Jaime puffed out his chest. “Well I’ve been learning for three!” he proclaimed, “So I can beat you!”

“You can try!”

The two children lunged at each other once more, Brienne thankfully dropping her sword as she did. Despite the assembled crowd, neither of the parents bothered breaking them apart.

Joanna and Selwyn exchanged smiles. “Let them fight it out,” she told him, “I’m sure they will be best friends,”

#

It was not Joanna’s custom to put Jaime to bed, usually leaving it to his nurse, but it had been a long day for her son. She had kissed little Tyrion goodnight and joined Jaime for his nightly prayers.

“Did you have fun with Lady Brienne today?” she asked him, stroking his golden hair.

Jaime made a face and shook his head in disgust. “No,” he said, “She’s stupid!”

“You played with her for a long time,”

“Only so I could prove that I could beat her at everything,”

“And did you?”

Jaime turned red and picked at the embroidery on his bedding. Joanna laughed gently and pressed a final kiss to his head, before turning to leave.

“Mother?” he called, causing Joanna to stop and face him.

“Yes Sweetling?”

“Are you going to see Brienne?”

“I might. Why, do you want me to?”

 “It’s just that Brienne is an awful baby and really stupid and looked a bit homesick earlier, so she might want someone to say goodnight to her,” he explained, before adding quickly, “Not that I care!”

Joanna nodded. “I see, in that case I shall go say goodnight,”

Jaime cried out for her once more. When she turned to face him, he was holding out his favourite toy soldier.

“I don’t need to sleep with this anymore,” he informed her, “Because I’m big and brave. But Brienne is so stupid she might want to have him in her bed, to help her sleep,” he yawned, “And if she doesn’t sleep well, she might not fight with me tomorrow,”


	26. Ze End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the final chapter. A big thank you to everyone to has read and reviewed!! (And thanks to December13 for the new title chapter, I much prefer it to my original :)

“Brienne of Tarth!” Tywin thundered, swinging his fist down upon his desk, papers flying and wine spilling from the goblets. “Your brother is a Lannister of Casterly Rock!  He could have had any woman he desires and who does he throw his attentions away on? Brienne of Tarth!”

Tyrion winced and shifted back in his chair.

Heartbroken and bitter by the enthusiasm in which Cersei had entered her marriage to Prince Rhaegar, Jaime had refused the hand of every woman offered to him. The beautiful and the fair had descended upon Casterly Rock, smiling and twinkling in their fine silks and velvets. The jewels of their houses, each and every one. Jaime had turned them away without a second glance. None would do but Cersei.

 Father had finally relented and allowed him a year of grace, to travel the kingdom and do as he pleased, before returning home to marry a Lady of noble and blood and high standing.

But when father said high standing, he probably hadn’t meant the reputedly giant Lady Brienne of Tarth.

“A minor house from the Stormlands,” Tywin snarled, seating himself once more behind his desk and brandishing the hastily scribbled letter from Jaime.

Tyrion’s mouth near filled with blood as he bit down on his tongue, using all his restraint from retorting ‘ _Better a Lady from the main branch of a minor house than the same branch of his own!’_

Now was not the time. Lord Tywin did not have his sword on him, but the letter opener looked awfully sharp.

“And if that is not bad enough,” Tywin continued, “By all accounts the woman is a degradation to her sex. A great, lumbering beast playing at swords,” Tywin fixed a cold eye upon Tyrion, “As if one disgrace was not enough,”

Tyrion tensed in his seat. It was in that moment Tyrion decided to welcome his new good-sister with open arms, for love of his brother and spite of his father.

“So,” Tyrion asked, finally able to get a word in edgeways, “What do you plan to do? Or have you just brought me here to rant?”

Lord Tywin’s gaze only grew colder. “Unfortunately, minor house or not, she is nobly born and her father is well respected. She cannot be treated as an embarrassment to be brushed aside,”

 _‘Like my wife, you mean,”_ Tyrion mused.

“And so, we must press her duty upon her, and pray to the Seven she proves to be fertile,”

Tyrion blinked at Tywin’s sudden piety. His father was loathe to admit to a being greater than himself.

 “My Lord,” Tyrion and Tywin turned to face the page standing in the doorway, “Ser Jaime and the Lady Brienne have arrived,”

Tyrion’s face lit up, he had missed his brother sorely. Lord Tywin’s face, however, darkened and his eyes grew hard. “Very well,” he said, “Let’s get this over with,”

The met with Jaime and his new wife in the Great Hall. The Lady Brienne was all that had been promised and more. Not only was she tall, broad and homely, her cheek was scarred and nose was broken. She stood hunched, as though hoping she could disguise some of her gargantuan height, and seemed barely able to look them in the eye. Jaime’s hand rested protectively on her back.

“Father,” he began, “May I introduce my wife, the Lady Brienne Lannister,”

The aforementioned Lady Brienne did not attempt to curtsey, but instead bowed. Even this was done awkwardly, and as the front of her cape gaped open, it became immediately clear as to why.

Lord Tywin’s eyes latched onto the curved belly of his new good-daughter, eyeing her rounded stomach the way a starved dog would hunger for a piece of meat.

Something akin to a smile stretched over Lord Tywin’s face and he eagerly gestured for Lady Brienne to sit in a plush seat by the fire.

“Please be seated, my Dear,” he said, “And warm yourself by the fire. The journey has been long,”

Brienne shot Jaime a befuddled look as she sat, clearly wondering where the demon father hell she had been promised was. Jaime smirked slightly and raised an eyebrow at Tyrion, who grinned back.

“I thank you father,” Jaime said, “I know Brienne will be glad of the rest,” he rested a fond hand upon her shoulder, “Carrying _twins_ can be awfully tiring,”

“Twins,” Tywin repeated, seemingly at loss for words. He composed himself quickly and addressed his sons. “Jaime, escort Lady Brienne to your chambers so that she may rest. Tyrion, have the Maester summoned,”

“Oh, there is no need,” Brienne began, only to be cut off.

“Nonsense,” Lord Tywin said.

Jaime squeezed Brienne’s shoulder. “It may be best Sweetling,”

Tywin nodded. “Exactly, it seems my son has finally grown some sense. And I must congratulate you Jaime, on a fine choice of a wife!” he then leant forward, and pressed his lips hard against Brienne’s hand, before striding off in a daze of delight.

Tyrion shook his head, “Why brother, it seems our father is more enthusiastic about your match than you are!”

Brienne blinked. “You said that your father would disapprove,”

“I thought he would! You’re the complete opposite of what he wants for me,”

“My dear brother, with child the first month of marriage, that is exactly what father wants for you!”


End file.
